I Don't Do Love
by savvykerri
Summary: Set about a year after "scandal in Belgravia', Irene Adler makes an unexpected but not altogether unwanted appearance. Moriarty is still alive, John worries about his best friend getting hurt, Sherlock worries about getting John out of the house, and Irene makes Sherlock squirm. You know you're interested... Rated MA for some dirty scenarios
1. Chapter 1

I don't do love chapter one

"I brought the post in," John announced presumably more to himself then to Sherlock, as he never replied to that statement. He heard him toss the letters on the table and walk into the kitchen to boil water for tea.

"You know every now and then a nice 'welcome home John, how's your day been' would be nice."

Sherlock stared at the wall, he was lost in thought as usual and hardly noticed John talking. He was thinking of his latest case, and didn't need to be bothered with such simple things as conversation.

John ignored him until the tea was done, then poured himself a cup.

"Want a cup?" John offered to Sherlock who hadn't moved an inch the entire time.

"Hm? Oh, no I'm fine," he replied when John began to pour him a cup.

John sighed and dumped the few drips of tea he had poured in sherlocks cup down the sink.

"It's your week to do dishes," John said putting the cup in the sink.

"Mrs. Hudson will do them, why bother assigning us dates?" Sherlock said still staring at the same place on the wall.

"Oh I don't know, because she's not our maid?" John said sitting in his chair by the lit fireplace. He sipped his tea quietly and stared into the embers.

"Do you still...you know...think about her?" John said without looking at him. How was it Sherlock knew exactly who he went when he said 'her'?

He thought a moment.

"No."

"Really? Like not at all?"

"Why do you care?" Sherlock finally looked at him.

"Well..." John fiddled with his cup, something he does quite frequently, "I just...thought maybe you had the smallest bit of feelings for her. Or did I read you two wrong?"

"Reading people isn't your strong suit, John, I did what I had to do and that's that. Now she's safe in America and I don't have to worry about her." He spoke quickly, returning his gaze to the wall.

He knew John didn't believe him by the look on his face. But it didn't matter, he didn't have to convince him of anything. Let him think what he wants. Irene had been a lying, deceitful, backstabbing, beautiful woman and he did not need her in his life.

Great, now John had forced thoughts of her back into his head when he had finally stopped thinking of her.

"I'm going for a stroll," Sherlock decided.

"It's bloody freezing out there, the snow is really coming down," John said.

"That's why I own a coat," Sherlock said matter of factly and grabbed his long coat and scarf and headed down stairs. He closed the door behind him and pulled his scarf closer to his neck, the wind was bitter cold and the snow was whirling around like he was in a snow globe being shook up continuously.

He began to walk, nowhere imparticular. After maybe an hour of walking, he wasn't sure, he had been lost in his mind for a while, he finally looked up and realized he had ended up at the local park. Of course there were no children here now, their mothers would never let them out in this cold. It was quite a pretty sight to see, snow covering the playground equipment and trees, glistening in the light of the falling sun. Something black caught his eye in the distance partially behind a tree. He side stepped, blinking in the heavy wind to make out what the shape was. When he managed to catch a glimpse, perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him or snow blindness, but he swore he saw her outline. It had to be her it could be no one else. But he closed his eyes as a strong wind blew snow into his face and when he looked again, the figure was gone. He decided to push her from his mind and walk home. As he tromped through the miniature blizzard, he had never been so happy to see the sign on the door that said 221b.

He walked in and took his coat and scarf off, shaking the snow from them, then walked back up the stairs to his apartment and made straight for the warmth of the fire.

"I told you," John said from his bedroom.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and held his numb hands over the fire place.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't do love chapter 2

Two days later, Sherlock was up late playing his violin. He of course would never admit it, but it was a sort of passion. He could melt his troubles of the day away with the long whine of each cord. Tonight he was simply playing a few old songs he had played a hundred times before.

John was out on a date with some girl he had met at the market, and Mrs. Hudson was spending the week with her sister in the country. The house was too quiet and it made him insane. He played a few more songs then tossed his violin in his chair and sighed, walking over towards the kitchen to make some hot coffee. He put the kettle on to heat, and noticed all the mail piling up on the table. He didn't want to but he knew he had to go through it eventually. He took a seat and began sorting.

Johns, bill, letter from potential client, letter from an old client, bill, bill, letter with no name...Sherlock looked this particular one over with curiosity. There was no return address or shipping address, simply the name 'Sherlock' on the front. He glanced it over carefully. Not a crease or smudge on the paper, the letter sealed with saliva not a sticker, but when he saw the red lipstick mark on the back of the envelope, his heart lept with an unpleasant lurch. Someone had kissed this envelope and he had only one guess who. He opened it and removed the piece of paper inside. It was handwritten in curvy writing.

'Mr. Holmes,

I can never thank you for what you did, lets do dinner? How's December 10th at eight work for you? I'll be waiting by the statue on fifth street. Don't be late.

Xo'

There didn't new to be a signature for him to know who the letter was from. And although he couldn't force his heart to slow down thinking of seeing her again, it made him angry to think she would show up so boldly and put herself in danger just to try to ignite a romance between them.

He checked his watch, twenty past nine. What was today? He glanced at the calendar. The 10th...bloody hell it's the 10th already? He jumped up, suddenly feeling extremely anxious and unsure of himself. He took the kettle off the stove, put his shoes on, grabbed his jacket, walked out, then back in mumbling to himself, then finally walked back out. He couldn't leave her out there for anyone to find, she could be captured and murdered and he may not be able to intervene this time. Yes, although he was angry, he had to do what was right. He marched quickly and determinedly towards the statue two blocks away. He could hardly feel the cold, his nerves kept him focused on other things. He finally spotted it and trotted his way up to it. But there wasn't a single person in sight. He felt a hint of disappointment, but mostly relief. Perhaps she had decided not to come after all. Perhaps she changed her mind and saw it as too risky. He exhaled deeply, and turned to make his way back home. He laughed at himself. Getting all worked up like some school boy over that woman. Preposterous. He walked much more calmly back to his flat and stopped in front of the door when he saw small tracks going into the door way. He opened the door and saw the bit of melting snow on the floor from someone tracking it in. He followed the wet footprints to the top of the stairs and into his flat. His heart unvolentarily leapt, just a little, when he saw her standing in front of the fire.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't do love chapter 3

"Miss. Adler," he greeted her flatly, hands behind his back, fidgeting with eachother.

She turned and a smile spread across her face.

"Mr. Holmes." She replied. Then turned and walked towards him slowly.

"You stood me up."

"My apologies, I didn't read the letter until just moments ago." he replied with no emotion.

"I wanted to ring, but I was afraid someone would tap into my call."

He half smiled, "you should be worried. You came back to the one place they can find you. Not such a smart thing to do," he looked down at her.

"Noone will look for me here" She said quietly, "besides...I had to come back and see you. You saved my life."

"I'm sure you would have done the same for me," he said, walking to the stove to put the kettle back on.

She looked around the room a moment.

"Where is everyone? It's too quiet in here."

"Mrs. Hudson is visiting her sister and John is on a date that must be going rather well because he's been gone quite a long time."

"Ah...so what does the important Sherlock Holmes do when he has the house to himself?" She said curiously.

"You see it there on my chair," he replied simply.

"Ha...you really are a virgin aren't you?" She said playfully.

Sherlock exhaled through his nose. But she pressed on.

"Most men would have a girl over or at least some dirty pictures up on the computer."

"Well it looks to me like I do have a girl over," he grinned sarcastically at her.

"Oh don't be like that. I'm only teasing you. I quite admire you for still being one. England's leading detective, I'm sure you have some money, handsome and young...the temptation must be horrible sometimes."

"If there's been temptation then I've somehow missed it, girls don't normally show up naked when I come to their house," he glanced at her then turned to get two cups ready.

A grin played at her mouth.

"Well I'm going to get ready for bed," she said and grabbed her travel bag, walking towards the bathroom.

Of course she would be staying here. She couldn't exactly stay at a hotel, if anyone of importance saw her, she was a dead woman.

She walked back out a few moments later, Sherlock glanced at her as she walked back towards his bedroom. Her long dark hair hung limply down her back and her silk night gown didn't leave much to the imagination for how short it was. He gulped and turned back to the kettle.

"Would you like a coffee?" He yelled to her.

"No thanks, I've got more...important things to do in here...join me if you like."

He gave another quick glance towards his room where she flashed him a quick playful smile and closed the she had been the only woman to tempt him with such things.

He sat in his chair sipping his hot coffee. It was near eleven now and John still hadn't made it home. He was beginning to worry, but the sudden bang of the door closing brought him relief.

He listened as two sets of foot prints made their way up the stairs and giggly voices echoed down the hall. Great, John had brought the woman home. And Sherlock could not retreat to his room like he normally would.

The key unlocked and John came in dragging a petite blonde by the hand. They both stopped when they saw Sherlock looking at them.

"Oh...is this the right flat?" She giggled a little too loudly.

"It is. I just wasn't expecting you to still be up," John said curiously to Sherlock.

"I see your date went well," Sherlock smiled at him. Oh yes, this is Amanda, Amanda, Sherlock, now why don't we make ourselves a coffee?" He grinned at his date. She followed him to the kitchen but flashed an odd smile at Sherlock on her way there.

They both sat on the couch after they had coffee in their hands.

"So uh...why are you still up?" John pressed.

"I can't sleep." He simply said.

"Why not?"

"Irene Adler."

John seemed to think there were thoughts bothering him and became very somber.

"Sorry...we will just uh...take this party to my room then?" He stood and the girl followed him giggling.

"Good idea," Sherlock said, "and good job picking this one. She isn't all that drunk, she just really wants to get lucky."

John gave Sherlock a dirty look and closed his door.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't do love chapter 4

Sherlock awoke the next morning to the smell of eggs and sausage. He sat up and blinked a few times to see Irene cooking.

"You waste no time making yourself at home, do you?" He said standing.

"Why are you complaining, I'm cooking for all of us," she said without looking at him.

"You could at least put some pants on," he said walking towards the bathroom.

He heard her mumble "like you've never seen me before..."

He showered and put fresh clothes on and walked back out to see three plates sitting on the table.

"Wake John up would you? I bet he has a hangover from hell," she grinned.

"He's going to have a heart attack from hell when he sees you. Everyone thinks your dead." He gave her a sarcastic look and knocked on John's door. He heard him grumble.

"John. Breakfast." He said and walked back to the table to sit.

She handed him a cup of tea and he took it suspiciously.

"Why are you doing all this?" He asked.

"I told you. I can never repay you. And I admit. I missed you. Even your sarcastic remarks." She grinned. All Sherlock could do was give a small laugh.

John walked lazily out of his room holding his head and went straight for the bathroom without glancing up. How he got through life so unobservantly Sherlock would never understand. When he came back out and sat at the table, where he finally looked up to Irene smiling back at him. He stared at her a moment, unsure if what he was seeing was real or if he was still a bit buzzed. He blinked a few times and looked from Irene to Sherlock and back.

"Aren't you suppose to be dead?" He said to her.

"Suppose to be, yes. But I had help escaping that fate," she glanced at Sherlock.

"You...helped her? How? I thought terrorists had beheaded her? How can you possibly intervene with that? You know what...nevermind. I don't even want to know," he said and picked up his fork and began eating.

"When did your companion leave last night?" Sherlock asked.

"I dunno...I must have passed out." John admitted.

"Around one," Irene said, "I saw her when I got up to get water. Sherlock you certainly are a hard sleeper. She wasn't exactly quiet."

He sipped his tea.

"Anyway, so what are our plans today boys?" She said looking determinedly from one to the other.

"_Our_ plans?" Sherlock said setting his tea down looking at her.

"Yes. What shall we get into today? Have any hard hitting cases you need help with? Any bad guys to round up and ship off to jail? Anything like that?"

Sherlock stared in disbelief a moment.

"You come here, risking your life to see me again, and you think your going to help me solve crimes?"

She raised her eye brows at him. "Well yeah...you do concentrate well with me around do you not? Or do you just like to show off?"

John inturupted, "he actually does enjoy showing off."

Sherlock glanced at him and back to the eager faced woman.

"It's not safe for you to so much as leave the flat, let alone come out and help me do my job. And I am not a show off John Watson, she does in fact help me think clearer but it's much too dangerous to bring her anywhere. Unless...you haven't been in contact with Moriarty have you?" He stared Irene down.

"Of course not, he thinks I'm dead as well." He could tell she was telling the truth.

"Why do you ask?" She said.

"In case you were on some secret mission to kill me or something. But I can tell that's not why your here, so we can drop it at that. John, we are heading to the country side to visit the scene of the murder we were informed of a few days ago."

"I have plans," John said

"Yes, your plans are to help me," Sherlock said standing.

"No, Sherlock, I've made plans with some friends to go out today. I asked you days ago to go to that scene and you repeatedly said no so I thought you weren't interested. So therefore I'm not going. I've got plans." John said firmly, taking another bite of sausage and walking to his room to dress.

He didn't want to look down at Irene, he knew she was grinning in hopes of going.

"Get your coat Mrs. Adler," he said quietly. "Wear your hair down, not too much make up, and don't speak to anyone while we are out."

"Your letting me come?" She said incredulously.

"I decided I can't leave you here alone...I don't trust you that much. Hurry up lets go." He grabbed his shoes to put on while she scurried off to dress. A few minuets later they were both ready to go and John had already left.

"So tell me about this murder scene?" She said tightening the scarf around her neck.

"You will see all you need to once we are there."

They flagged down a taxi to take them to the train station where they were quickly on thier way to the English country side.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't do love chapter

Even with snow covering everything and not a live plant or animal in sight, the country was very beautiful. The sun had decided to make an appearance today and made it look as though the snow was actually glitter someone had thrown all over the earth. It was about an hour long ride. He made Irene sit by the window so she wouldn't be noticed as well by passengers walking by.

"It is beautiful isn't it?" She said quietly looking out the window.

"Indeed," was all he said.

She looked over at him.

"You know, you don't have to act so uncaring of everything around you. It's ok to have feelings."

"I know it's ok I simply don't see the point in showing them. It's a weakness remember?" He stared down at her.

"It's not weak. It's human. But then again I'm not quite sure you are human ."

"Surprisingly you're not the first person to say that." He muttered. She placed her hand on top of his and she could tell immediately it made him uncomfortable. So of course she began to run her thumb around on his skin. He cleared his throat but sat still, Irene never taking her eyes off of him. She did indeed like making people squirm. Him especially.

"If your attempting to flirt-"

"So you recognize my attempts? And here I was beginning to think you didn't know anything about flirting, love, or even sex," she said quietly so only he could hear her. She moved her hand down to his leg and he immediately began fidgeting, looking anywhere but at her. She had to hold back laughter at his uneasiness. But instead she pulled her hand back into her own lap and sat quietly the rest of the trip.

When they finally arrived, she had never seen Sherlock move so fast to leave. She caught up with him once off the train and followed his hurried footsteps across from the train station, down to a frozen creek, where they crossed over a small bridge and onto a trail leading into the woods.

They walked silently for what seemed like a mile until they came upon police tape marking off an area that was fairly clear of trees. There was nobody around, which Sherlock preferred, he could concentrate better. He immediately began taking in his surroundings, he spotted a small hair hanging from one of the branches, black, appeared to be from a male or a short haired female, there were no signs of a struggle he could see and of course the body had already been removed and taken to the local morgue. There wasn't much to see here. He placed the hair in a small bag he brought.

"Well what do you see? Because to me, this just looks like a clearing."

"Exactly," he said, "the victim was not murdered here, she was brought here afterwards, unfortunately the snow has been so bad I can't recover any foot prints so all I have to go on is a single short black hair right now. Presumably a man, I doubt a female could have drug her body all the way out here by herself quickly enough to not draw attention. And I'm certain is was only one suspect."

She looked at him, impressed. He glanced around a few moments longer but after finding no other clues, began walking back towards the train station.

"So that's it? We come an hour out into the country so you can look for two minuets, and turn around and go back home?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do at this point. I've collected some evidence we can drop off at the police station, I'll give the other detectives a call, and that's my job for now."

"But don't you wonder who did it? You aren't gonna hang around and try to help figure it out?"

"Miss. Adler, this is not a 'hard hitting case' as you call it, it's a routine murder, jealousy, I'm thinking, of a wife's affair. Once they find somebody's wife is missing, they will find her guilty husband and that's that. No big mystery."

"A routine murder?" She said incredulously, "never heard that before."

They walked to the police station, dropped off the evidence, Sherlock called the other detectives, and they were back at the station waiting for a train back home.

"Don't you ever feel bad for the victims? Don't you have an ounce of empathy in your body?"

"I wish I could say yes but that would dampen my personality as a high functioning sociopath."he shot her a quick smile. She sighed and shook her head.

"You are a mystery in yourself Mr. Holmes."


	6. Chapter 6

I don't do love chapter 6

They arrived back home by noon and Irene mostly stayed huddled by the fire listening to Sherlock play his violin. This went on for a few hours. Neither of them really talking. Irene cleaned up the flat a bit for them and changed into her nightgown and robe by five o clock. John came strolling in soon after.

"How did it go?" He asked her.

"You didn't miss much," she said looking at him then back at the fire. He looked at Sherlock lost in thought as he played his instrument.

"Come in the bedroom with me for a moment," John said. Irene stood and followed him where he closed the door behind them. She folded her arms knowing full well what he was going to say.

"Why did you really come back? He was just starting to act like his normal self again, no more sad music, no more binges, no more not eating for a week-"

"He did all that when I left?" She said curiously.

John seemed a bit suprised.

"Well...yes...I do believe he fancied you. I saw the chemistry between you two, it wasn't just friends."

"You are more observant then Sherlock in a way," she rolled her eyes thinking of him.

"Do you care for him?" John said with a determined face.

"Of course I do. He knows I do and yet he pushes away every advance I make towards him."

John shook his head smiling.

"Listen. He is not like other men. You can't flash him and expect him to drop his trousers ready to go at it. That's not how his mind works. You have to be interesting enough for him to pay attention to you. He is into brains not beauty. Stop trying to impress him with looks and he will notice you much quicker, trust me."

"I think I can handle it," she said turning to walk out.

"He does fancy you, he was not himself when you left. He's never acted like that with anyone before."

She grinned, "I'm glad to hear it." She said and walked back out.

"Also-" John whispered out and she turned and looked back at him, "I think he may be into the rough...sort of thing that...you know...you're into...nobodies ever put him in his place like you have..."

She shook her head, nearly laughing, and walked back out to sit by the fire. John closed his door and kept quiet.

After a few minuets, she knew she had to say something to him. She watched him play his violin, so softly and determinedly, yet his eyes staring out of the frosted windows as though he didn't even realize he was in the room.

"Mr. Holmes." She said. He continued playing, unaware that she had said anything.

She stood and walked over to him, placing a her hand on his arm. He stopped playing and looked at her.

"Can't you come sit down and talk?" She said gently.

He lowered his violin.

"What is there to talk about?" He said quietly.

"Oh I imagine there's plenty," she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in front of his chair where she pushed him down. He didn't take her eyes off of her the entire time.

"When is John coming home?" He said as she pulled John's chair up to sit closely in front of him.

"He's been home a few minuets already. He's in his room."

Sherlock snorted, "probably looking at girls on the Internet."

"So what if he is? Isn't that what a normal man would do?" She sat staring him directly in the eyes.

"I wouldn't know that would I? You said you weren't even sure if I'm human."

"Oh your human enough. It's just figuring you out that's the hard part. Now Mr. Holmes, I know that you like me, and I like you too. Why won't you show any type of acknowledgment for your feelings? There's no danger in having feelings. Everyone thinks I'm dead so all the better for you." She said quietly.

"What if I do have feelings for you?" He questioned her, staring back into her deep eyes.

She placed her hand on his leg again, he glanced down at it and back to her, apparently unsure of what to do.

She leaned in close to his own face, not breaking eye contact. Sherlock sat completely still, his body screaming to touch her but his mind telling him to sit still and shut up. He knew he was breathing a bit harder then usual, something only she could make him do when she got close. Maybe he did like her...his body was certainly showing all the signs, or so he thought. He slowly placed his hand on top of hers and he saw a small smile form on her red lips. Oh her lips. So thin and delicious looking, stern yet eager, and so close, how had they gotten so close?

She had him almost in a trance, he could feel her breath on his face, it was absolutely intoxicating, but she didn't press her lips to his own as he had been hoping for, instead she went for his ear and he felt her teeth tug at his ear lobe. His eyes closed automatically and he felt his grip on the chair tighten. Her tounge began to trace slow lines up then back down his ear until she reached his neck where she once again gently bit, her hands somehow finding thier way to his shoulders where she held on rather tightly, digging her nails into his shirt. Sherlock couldn't help but arch his neck a bit, her mouth simply felt amazing on his skin, and his whole being screamed for her not to stop. She worked her way down to his collar bone and pulled away.

"Don't stop," he said quietly. It was the most intimate thing she had gotten out of him so far, and even though it wasn't much, it was a good start.

"As much as I'd like to make you beg for more, we shouldn't go any further right now, John is in his room right now probably listening to see if your getting lucky. I think you may want him out of the house first...unless you don't mind him listening? Or want him to join in, some guys are into that."

"No...no your right," he cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter, "we...we should wait...until..." But his mind seemed to not be working.

"Until John leaves," she finished his sentence.

"Yes...um...excuse me," he quickly got up and walked to his room closing the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't do love chapter 7

Sherlock paced the floor. What had happened to him? He felt so flustered and anxious he couldn't form a single full thought. He took a few deep breaths in and out, trying to calm his body that felt as though it had electricity coursing through his veins, fueling his adrenaline. He certainly had never been touched in that manner before, never that close to another human in his life...and he had quite enjoyed it. More so then he thought he would. Human touch had always sort of driven him away, but something about this woman made him want more of it. Perhaps she was the mystery, not him.

John came out of his room an hour or so later to grab a biscuit and some tea. He spotted Irene staring into the fire with a rather pleased look on her face.

"Where's Sherlock?" He said looking around.

"In his room trying to figure out a way to get you out of the house without letting on that he wants to get laid," She said very matter of factley. John had to pause a moment to take in what she had said.

"Wait...what did you do to him? What did you say?" He said staring her down with an almost amused look on his face.

"Oh nothing...he just needed a little persuasion. Turns out he's alot more like a normal man then we thought." She grinned at him.

John laughed. "Only you. Only you could do this to him. I can't believe it. I don't know whether to congratulate him on becoming a man or to congratulate you on forcing him into it."

"How about getting out of town tomorrow so I can finish the job?" She said.

John laughed, "of course, I'll uh...I'll make something up. But I'm only doing this for Sherlock! He's my best mate and he shouldn't have to suffer because of me being in this flat. I'll be gone by tomorrow afternoon, and you won't hear a peep from me until the next day." He sounded very flustered and excited, stumbling over his words and talking more to himself then anything. Irene found it very amusing and watched him, smiling, as he retreated back to his room.

"I can't believe it," she heard him mumble as he closed his door.

Sherlock didn't come out of his room the whole night, Irene eventually fell asleep in his chair, curled up comfortably, lulled by the sound of the dying, crackling fire.

Sherlock, however, was finding it hard to sleep. He layed fully clothed on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling. He decided to have a peak out into the living room, and saw Irene curled like a cat in his chair. Her neck was at an odd angle and he felt a twinge of guilt. He tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking hard. But he finally decided to walk over to her and scoop her small frame up. She turned and put her face in his chest as he carried her. He let a grin show, but just barely.

He pushed the door open and laid her on his bed, covering her with the warm blankets. She immediately curled back up and was sleeping hard.

He watched her carefully for a moment, then decided to walk back out into the living room and take her position, asleep in the chair.

"Sherlock...Sherlock!" He heard and his head snapped up but his eyes wouldn't open.

"What...where's the fire? She didn't do it?" His half asleep mind seemed to think that made sense and his head laid back down into the cushion it had come from.

"Sherlock, wake up!" He felt someone shaking his arm and finally his eyes opened.

"John?" He said, "what time is it?"

"It's nearly twelve in the afternoon. I wanted to tell you I'm leaving and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to see my sister."

"Sister...noon...got it," he laid back again and listened as John left the flat. Then it finally clicked in his brain. John was leaving until tomorrow? He rubbed his eyes and stretched. He had slept so restlessly last night, he felt like a zombie today. He walked in the bathroom and turned the shower on, undressed, and realized he hadn't brought any clothes in with him, so he sleepily made his way to his room to get some things out of his dresser. He turned, clothes in hand, and noticed the figure on his bed.

It took a few seconds before he remembered Irene was sleeping in here. He covered himself with his clothes and quickly made his way back into the bathroom, fully awake now. He locked the door, put his clothes down, and stepped into the steaming water. Oh it felt so good to wash off, after he washed, he simply let the water run down his back for a minuet.

He finally turned the water off and jumped out to dry and clothe. He walked back out to find Irene making sandwhiches and hot cocoa.

"Afternoon Mr. Holmes. Hope you like ham," she said putting a few pieces on a slice of bread.

"Why are you making lunch?" Sherlock asked.

"Well...people usually eat this time of day." She said almost amused.

He walked in the kitchen and looked down at her.

"I was thinking we can do something a bit more...romantic." He spoke rather slow and deliberate. Obviously he had never spoken words like that to any girl.

"Oh?" She said grinning but carrying on with her buisness.

"Yes...perhaps...a date?"

She thought her mouth may drop open, was he was actually returning feelings now? And he wanted to go on a date!?

She turned and looked at him suprised.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?"

He smiled, "I can be romantic when I want to. Or did John tell you I was a heartless being?"

"No but I would never expect you to actually do something as human as ask me on a date.

"Do you accept?"

"Yes. Of course. How should I dress?"

"Just make sure you have clothes on. A simple dress would do."

"But I have so much more fun without clothes on." Her daring look make his stomach clench. He swallowed.

"Yes...well..." He seemed to not be able to get anymore out and walked back into the living room to wait for her to get ready. She put the sandwich stuff away and hurried to his room where all her clothes were. She picked out a simple and elegant black dress with a string of pearls to match. She put her makeup on, but much softer then usual, and instead of bunching her hair up, she pulled it all to one side and stuck a hair clip in it.

She walked out and felt sherlocks eyes on her.

"What do you think?" She spun around in front of him.

He was quiet a moment as though thinking, "beautiful...actually really beautiful. Noone should recognize you right off the bat. We will go to a small cafe though so we don't draw unnecessary attention .

"Aye aye captain," she teased and got her heels on.

They flagged a cab down and ended up at this very cute but decent cafe. When they arrived, Sherlock hurried around and opened the cab door for her and offered her hand to help her out.

"Oh my, somebody has remembered their manners today," she took his hand and got out of the car.

"I'm simply trying to be a good date," he said quietly while they walked up to the door.

"Your doing a fine job...if this evening ends well...I may not need to whip you at all."

He stumbled a little when she said that and she had to grin. Something about her obviously flustered him. And she loved it.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't do love chapter 8

Their date went by rather smoothly according to his standards. They had nice wine, good food, and kept an interesting conversation going. While he talked, Irene would make him stumble over his words by rubbing her foot against his leg and touching his hand if he left it on the table. It was rather amusing. But it was getting late and they had sat there flirting long enough. They paid their check and left, deciding to walk the few blocks back to his apartment.

They both laughed nearly the whole way back. He found he was actually enjoying another human beings company. Aside from John and Mrs. Hudson, he had never much care for anothers company.

He unlocked the door and they climbed the stairs. When they got inside, Irene wasted no time. They hung their jackets up and she immediately grabbed him by the front of his belt, pulling him towards the bedroom. He seemed to be caught off guard and went along with it.

"M-miss. Adler-" he stumbled out. She pressed a finger to his lips and he instantly shut up.

She pulled them through his bedroom door where she pushed him down onto his bed. He kicked his shoes off and sat, watching her take hers off as well, followed by her dress. His heart raced as he saw her body with only panties and a bra on.

"Lay back on the bed properly," she said firmly. He did as he was told while she fumbled in her bag for things. When she stood back up, he saw the rope in her hand.

"We're going to do this my way," she said. "Hands above your head Mr. Holmes."

He slowly placed his hands by either post of the bed and watched her tie his wrists firmly to the frame. He was so nervous...yet he did not stop her. He was mesmerized and curious.

"Now this is more like it," she grabbed her thin black riding crop and climbed on the bed with him, straddling his lap.

She reached down to his button up shirt and ripped it open with one swift pull. She then took her crop and traced it from his jaw, slowly down his chest and past his navel to the button of his pants. She undid his belt and button but left it at that.

She could feel how eager his body was becoming and knew this would be too easy. There was no stopping her now. His eyes were intense and dark, focusing on her and her alone.

"You've been such a good boy today I don't think you need much punishment. Perhaps just a tap on the cheek?" She lightly tapped him with her crop. She didnt want to push him too far yet.

"My my...look at this body." She ran her fingers down his lean chest, "all the things I could do with it...makes the imagination reel doesn't it Mr. Holmes?"

"Inde-" but he could not even finish his word, she grinded her hips into his making him lose all the air in his lungs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?" She said grinning and moved her hips into his again, making him exhale deeply. She then leaned down and bit at his ear as she had before, but more firmly this time, then drug her lips down to where his were and bit his bottom lip. He leaned his head up in an attempt to bring their lips together, but she pushed him back down.

"Patients..." She said leaning back down.

Oh surely his body was on fire with lust, every inch of her skin that touched him felt as though it would combust. He had never wanted anyone or anything so badly in his life. She first let her lips attack his neck, then up his jawline finally to his curvy lips where she planted a soft kiss upon them. She kept her face an inch away from his own.

"Do you want me Mr. Holmes?" She teased.

"Y-yes...very...very badly," he managed out.

"All you need to do is ask," she whispered.

"Please...please Miss. Adler..." he strangled out.

His words sent waves of pleasure through her. She removed her remaining clothes, throwing them to the floor, and took her place back on top of him. His body screamed to be touched. Seeing all of her bare flesh made him want her tenfold more.

She slowly pulled his pants down, just enough to free him.

"Impressive, Mr. Holmes...now you stay very still."

His whole body ached to move, but he didn't disobey her, instead he watched as she lifted her small body and prepared him at her entrance.

She flashed him a sly grin and painfully slowly lowered herself.

He could not hold back the low moan that escaped his lips.

"That's right...you make as much noise as you want...I want to hear you enjoying yourself..."

She slowly grinded her hips against his and his head went back, eyes closed in unexplainable pleasure. She knew she would not have long, none of the first timers she had been with had lasted more then a few minuets. Oh but could she have fun in those few minuets. She began to bounce, slowly at first, watching Sherlock's handsome face as he tried to remain focused on her, but his head kept going back against the pillow, his eyes closing in ecstasy. She began to move faster with more force, her long hair bouncing along with her breasts.

Sherlock felt as though there was no air in his lungs, his head was absolutly swimming, his flesh surely going to burst into flames. He gripped the ropes holding his wrists in place tightly. As Irene began to move faster, he felt her hands on his chest. She dragged her nails down his skin, leaving little red trails behind. The mixture of pain with such pleasure was unbearable. He knew he couldnt last much longer. He opened his eyes enough to see Irene grin at him as she moved.

"Come on, Mr. Holmes..." She said quietly, staring into his eyes. Her words gave him permission, she wanted him to finish. He felt the urge in his belly, he just needed a small push over the edge.

"Faster..." He finally managed out through the pleasure. She laughed sensually and did what he asked, placing her hands on his chest for support. She dug her nails lightly into his skin and that bit of pain sparked something in Sherlock that made him groan as he finished.

"Well now...you are human after all..." Irene whispered into his ear.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't do love chapter 9

John slowly opened the door the following afternoon and walked through to see Sherlock reading the newspaper in his chair.

"How was your trip?" Sherlock asked without looking up.

"Oh…it was good. Really good. What ah…what have you been up to?" John tried to sound casual as he put his bag down on the floor and removed his jacket.

"Same boring things as before you left." He replied.

"Nothing…interesting happened while I was gone?" John pressed.

"John, I know what you are doing and I also know that you didn't stay with your sister," Sherlock finally lowered his paper, "But I do appreciate it." He said simply, then began reading again.

John smiled to himself, he knew that meant Irene had accomplished what she wanted. Maybe his best friend was capable of a normal relationship after all.

"Mrs. Hudson will be back today, she wants to have a Christmas party you know."

Sherlock made a noise in acknowledgement.

"You know she's going to invite Molly…" John said quietly.

"And?"

"And…won't you feel guilty?" John asked.

Sherlock was quiet a moment. "No. She will have a man with her in a failed attempt to make me jealous. He will probably obnoxious, she seems to like those kinds of men."

"Can't argue with that," John said. Sherlock gave him a sarcastic look.

"So where's the lucky lady?" John said looking around Irene.

"Sleeping." Sherlock said simply.

"Oh yes…she must be exhausted."

Sherlock was quiet, but he glanced at John and saw him trying so hard not to laugh, that it made him suddenly laugh.

"I can always count on you to make a situation more awkward," Sherlock said, amused.

"Well at least you will be in a better mood today than usual," John said making them laugh again.

Just as John said, Mrs. Hudson was home before night fall, making a big deal of saying hello to everyone. She too seemed to notice a change in Sherlock's behavior, and was happy for it. John helped her put her bags away then went back up to find Sherlock and Irene putting their coats on.

"Where are you two off to?"

"Going to see a flick," Sherlock said putting his scarf on.

"Oh?" John was growing more and more awed by the moment.

"Yeah," Irene said, "That new horror that's out, the one with the demons possessing that woman?"

John nodded but looked back at Sherlock. "I thought you didn't like horror films?"

"I don't."

"Then…why are you going to see one?" John said confused.

"Because she does." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and walked out the door.

"He must _really_ like you," John said as Irene walked past him following the detective out of the door. She stopped and looked back at John.

"I keep him on a very short leash," She winked at him. John laughed incredulously as she closed the door.

Days passed by and John was beginning to think that this masochistic woman was the best thing to ever happen to his best friend. She did indeed keep him on a short leash. Sherlock respected her and she had actually made him calm down with his showing off a bit. Brought him down to earth, John may say. They were now sleeping in the same bed at night…when they 'slept' that was. John found himself listening to loud music much more frequently. He was amazed Sherlock was actually enjoying himself this much. Sherlock had managed to keep Irene a secret from Mrs. Hudson for a few days, but she had run into her one day when she came up to clean. Not that it mattered, Mrs. Hudson didn't know anything about this woman except that John told her she was Sherlock's new girl. She was absolutely tickled but John made her swear not to make it a big deal and to not tell a soul about her. She had hesitantly promised but only if she could invite everyone she wanted to the party. John had to agree to that.

The 22nd came and Mrs. Hudson was rushing around setting out all the different pastries and appetizers she had made. Irene was putting up decorations, John was struggling with stringing lights, and Sherlock was sitting on the couch sipping tea.

"Don't hurt yourself," John looked down the step ladder he was on at Sherlock.

"That's why I'm not on a ladder right now," he replied rudely.

"Sherlock." Everyone looked around at the firm voice that had come from Irene, including Sherlock himself.

"Help John." She said staring at him. He stared back at her a moment, as if deciding if he should question why. But instead he calmly set his tea on the table and slowly walked over to help John with the lights.

John raised his eyebrows at Irene, she flashed him a grin but shot Sherlock a dirty look, to which his only reply was to look away and hand John the lights on the floor.

"Well it's about time someone put you in your place, Sherlock. Making everybody else do all the work around here so you can laze about lost in thought about God only knows," Mrs. Hudson said approvingly.

"Oh I think he will be staying in line quite often Mrs. Hudson," Irene said. "If not he will be disciplined." Irene stared Sherlock down, wanting to rip his trousers off then and there and have him.

Sherlock saw the glint in her eyes and cleared his throat uncomfortably, continuing to feed John the length of the lights.

"Well I don't know what you're doing to him, but keep it up." Mrs. Hudson said innocently. John snorted trying to hold back laughter but turned it smoothly into a cough.

"You getting a cold, John?" The older woman asked.

"No no no…nothing like that…just…something stuck in my throat…sorry." He said. Sherlock wanted to kick that ladder out from under him.


	10. Chapter 10

I dont do love chapter 10

People began showing up around six, and Sherlock gave John an 'I told you so' look when Molly walked through the door with a dark haired young man on her arm. John rolled his eyes and greeted her, taking her coat.

"You must be Mr. Holmes," the man she was with said as he held out his hand. Sherlock looked at him a moment taking in his details. Definitely obnoxious, overly eager to please, plays the piano, wears his hair messy to hide his receding hairline, has an old injury to his back, probably from work, he's not the sporty type, and very wondering eyes as if he was nervous to be here. She could have done worse. At least he wasn't a serial killer. Sherlock shook the man's hand.

"Hi, Sherlock," Molly said quietly, "this is Bill, he's new at the lab."

"She's a true examiner this one," Bill said pointing at Molly, "knows everything there is to know about dead people and then some."

"If only she had the same skills with the living," Sherlock said only loud enough for him and John to hear.

"Be nice!" John whispered.

"Molly, good to see you, glad you have a date at this party, drinks are in the kitchen, help yourself," Sherlock tried to sound polite. He didn't want to be here, God only knew who Mrs. Hudson had invited and this party could go on for a while. It would certainly make for a long night. Especially with Irene hidden in his room. She had practically begged to be allowed at the party, but he simply wouldn't allow it. God forbid someone of importance shows up and sees her hanging about in his flat not dead. He picked up his already half-drunk glass of wine and sipped at it. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him care about this get together.

Another girl came strolling in, one Sherlock had never seen before. He glanced her up and down once before saying, "John, your date you didn't expect to show up just showed up."

"What?" John said looking around, "Oh...Oh Wendy! Hello! Glad you could make it!" John rushed to hug her and invite her in.

A few older ladies that must have been friends of Mrs. Hudsons' came strolling in gossiping about rude people on the train, Mrs. Hudson quickly joined them.

When Sherlock looked back at the door, he was actually shocked to see his older brother standing awkwardly in the door way.

"Hello Sherlock...I was invited and thought I would drop by and say hello."

"Hello Mycroft," He replied back placidly as his brother let himself in and sat on the couch.

"I think that's all who could make it, close the door so we can keep some heat in here," Mrs. Hudson said looking to Sherlock. He did as she asked.

Everyone sat around talking, Molly staring at Sherlock when she thought he wasn't looking, Bill trying to make awkward conversation, and the older ladies mouth running a mile a minute with gossip. It was simply droll. Sherlock suddenly felt his pocket vibrate. He pulled his phone out of it and looked at the text that popped up on the screen.

'How's the party?'

He typed quickly back to her, 'I may shoot myself in the head'

He waited impatiently for a reply but his phone went silent for a few minutes. John and his friend seemed deep in conversation, Mrs. Hudson began complaining about today's generation, Mycroft sat quietly drinking wine, and Molly was talking to her date, though not paying attention to a word he said, she kept glancing at Sherlock to make sure he could see her talking to this man. Sherlock glanced at her and felt his phone vibrate in his hand. He looked down.

'Let's have our own party'

His heart beat quickly; he suddenly had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him to go into his room.

But John had told him not to...'don't be suspicious' he says. But he didn't see how one short trip would mean anything to all of these talking people.

He stood and turned to go back towards his room.

"Where are you going?" John said suspiciously.

"Bathroom," Sherlock said quickly. But John and Molly both watched him walk past the bathroom and go into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Who wants some Christmas music!?" John exclaimed loudly, jumping up and quickly turning the radio on. Molly looked at him very confused and walked over to him.

"Is he feeling ok?" She said lowly.

"Oh…yeah you know parties just aren't really his thing…" John smiled at her. Molly didn't smile back. In fact she seemed to have a permanent sad look in her eyes.

"I'll text him," John said pulling out his phone. Molly went and sat back down.

'Get back out here! Molly's worried about you!'

He sent the text and put his phone back in his pocket sitting back down by his date.

Sherlock closed the door behind him but was immediately pushed back against it with lips fiercely attacking his own. He grabbed Irene's hips and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around him.

Sherlock turned and pressed her back against the wall, still desperately kissing her. She pulled her head back a little.

"Was John angry you came in here?" She said quietly.

"Oh furious," Sherlock said leaning back in to kiss her neck. "You're going to get me in a lot of trouble."

"Sorry, I'm a bad influence," She said leaning her head back as he kissed her neck, "But since you're here…better make the most of it…" She unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and he quickly undid his pants and hiked up the short gown she had on. Irene held herself up by holding Sherlock's shoulders tightly. As he pushed up into her, she gasped and her head went back. They had never done it like this before. Sherlock was being quick and forceful, something he usually left her doing. She quite liked this change.

She wrapped her hands into his hair and held tightly as he thrust. She tried to keep her voice quiet, oh but he felt so good, and he was hitting just the right spot at this angle. She tried but could not keep in the little noises that came out of her mouth. Sherlock brought a hand up and covered her mouth, continuing to pound into her, her back banging into the wall. Oh Irene had never had someone treat her like this, she found that her hands were now at his neck and shoulders, digging into his flesh anywhere she could reach, her body desperate for release.

She moaned through the hand over her mouth as he began going faster. Her head was swimming, her body aching. She finally felt herself begin to tighten around him and her head leaned back, her nails surely piercing his skin. Waves of pleasure took over her whole being, and Sherlock seemed to notice. He pushed into her hard a few more times but as she tightened around him, he could not contain himself anymore and gave a final thrust into her, giving a low moan as he finished. His hand came down from her mouth and instead went to her sides. His head dropped down beside hers. He was panting hard, his heart beating rapidly. He finally let her down and redid the button on his pants while she recomposed herself.

Sherlock sat on the bed trying to even his breathing.

"You have to go back out there now," Irene said. Sherlock laughed.

"But it's so much more interesting in here…" He said as she walked up to him and leaned down, kissing him gently.

"Oh go be nice and mingle with the commoners…I'll be here when they leave," She said hopping on the bed and laying down. Sherlock looked into her deep green eyes and grinned.

"Merry Christmas Miss. Adler," He said. She smiled at him, amused. He got up, cleared his throat, straightened his pants, and walked out of the door.

John was staring him down. Sherlock walked calmly back out and took a seat on the couch next to him. John continued to stare at him.

"Is it that obvious?" Sherlock asked quietly. But the look on Molly's face told him that it indeed was.

"Jesus Sherlock you look like you were mauled by a lion!" John whispered at him. Sherlock brought his hand up to his neck and felt how much it stung.

"And who do you think you are, Don Juan de Marco? Button your shirt!" He whispered desperately at him. Sherlock glanced down, and then looked away as he buttoned the top button on his shirt back up.

"I've been stuck listening to this horrible Christmas music while you were in there, both Molly and your brother noticed you were gone and what am I supposed to tell them? Then you come back out here looking like this!?"

Sherlock pulled out his phone, ignored the missed text from John who continued to lecture him, and sent a text to Irene.

'I told you I'd be in trouble.'


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock closed and locked the door quickly after the last guest left, turning to go to his room.

"You are being careless, you have to be more careful!" John began on him again.

"You've already lectured me on this all night, John, I'm going to bed." He began to walk towards his room again.

"Sherlock, If your brother would have even caught a glimpse of her, she could be taken away and locked up by the government, then the only time you would get with her would be in a room with one way glass with police standing outside of the door." John said fiercely.

Sherlock paused with his hand on the handle of his door.

"If she wasn't killed first," John added. Sherlock was quiet a moment then walked into his room and closed the door.

Sherlock lay in bed with Irene curled fast asleep facing away from him. But he found no peace in sleep, he couldn't even close his eyes right now. Everything John said was true and the thought of seeing her in a dark room where she was being kept like a prisoner would not be enough for him now. He was too deeply involved. He rolled over facing away from her and sighed. She couldn't stay here forever, someone will eventually find her. He racked his brains for a solution, but the answer was simple. She couldn't stay here.

She will eventually have to leave.

New Year's morning came and Sherlock found himself up before dusk pacing the living room. John and Irene were passed out in their rooms from being up so late to celebrate the New Year, but Sherlock could not sleep. It had been weeks since his last case, why does nobody kill around holidays!? He was utterly and completely bored and on the verge of going insane. He paced and paced, fidgeting his hands behind his back. The sound of a light knock on the door snapped his head up to attention. Probably some lost drunk that partied too hard last night. He walked swiftly over to the door to tell them to go away, but when he opened the door, he froze, his voice unable to work.

There stood Jim Moriarty, a crooked half smile on his face. Sherlock began to close the door but of course the man had his foot in the doorway.

Sherlock stepped aside as Moriarty let himself in, walking slowly.

"What do I owe the pleasure?" Sherlock asked, closing the door and following him to the fireplace.

"Oh I think we both already know the answer to that."

Sherlock stood in front of him.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." He said.

"Who." Moriarty said. Sherlock gave him a questioning look.

"_Who_ I'm talking about…not what." He said quietly.

"Okay then I don't know _who_ you're talking about," Sherlock said, indeed knowing who he was talking about.

"I know she's alive…and I know you've been in touch. You don't have to lie to me, Sherlock. I don't want her dead."

"Then what do you want," Sherlock said carefully.

"I want you in exchange for me keeping her a secret." He said staring the taller man down with her dark eyes.

"I…don't understand…" Sherlock said. Moriarty grinned and looked around his flat.

"She's here isn't she?" He looked back to Sherlock, his eyes amused.

"Of course not-"

"Don't. Lie. To me." Moriarty said dangerously. But a grin was soon back on his face.

"Is she in your room? Sleeping, perhaps, from enjoying the festivities until early this morning?" Moriarty turned and took a step towards his bedroom door.

"No!" Sherlock said loudly, taking a step forward. Moriarty turned back at Sherlock and smiled at him. Sherlock had stupidly, accidentally given away her position.

" I think it's time you came with me, Mr. Holmes," He smiled.

"Why do you want me instead of her?" Sherlock asked, his heart beating rapidly.

"Well that's simple…I have no use for her. She has no information that's dangerous to me, your brother has had everything wiped clean on her slate. But you…oh I could have fun with you. You're the more interesting person to me."

They stared at eachother.

"So do you accept my offer? Or should I get ahold of the people that tried to kill her last time?" Moriarty said.

Sherlock thought a moment. Surely going with a man this insane would mean death for him…but to save Irene…he couldn't let her be killed. He stopped it once and he would have to stop it again. He saw no other way.

"I accept. On one condition," Sherlock looked down at him. Moriarty grinned.


	12. Authors note

_Hello everyone! I appreciate all the views, reviews, favs, and followers on this story! I love getting on here and seeing that more and more people are reading what i wrote. _

_I decided to throw Moriarty in here kind of last minuet so i slightly changed the description so as not to throw people completley off. I didnt think i was going to, but he fits so well into this plot and damnit...hes an awsome bad guy. Hope nobody minds! I tried to make this mostly about Sherlock and irene, and the romantic scenes are fun to write, but I also love a good story line and plot twist and I cant seem to write a short story, I love the details too much! _

_I hope all of you keep reading and reviewing my story, let me know what you like, dont like, ideas you have, anything like that. Warning, this story from here out is taking a bit of a violent turn and i love writing violence so just bare with me._

_I do hope our poor Sherlock will be ok in the clutches of Moriarty :) _


	13. Chapter 12

'My dearest Irene and John, I regret to inform you I must take an absence for a while. Once I arrive I will not be able to make contact. Rightfully so, you should be worried as I have no idea where I'm going. I assume it's some place nice. Although I may be gone awhile, I expect you to be in touch. Remember to lock the door at night, John. Thank you for being such good friends. Your safe now, Irene.

~Sherlock'

"What does this mean?" Irene held the piece of paper up to John.

"I dunno. It doesn't make much sense. Where would he have gone that he needed to leave such a strange note?" John questioned.

"Well…he is Sherlock. He's done stranger things." She said.

"Can't argue there." John said and went to the kitchen to make some toast.

"You want some?" he offered, holding up a piece of bread.

She stared at the note a moment longer. "No…no I'm fine."

Sherlock stepped out of the taxi and followed Moriarty up the sidewalk. They turned a corner and walked into an alley way.

"You live down here? I expected something more…glamorous." Sherlock muttered. Moriarty stopped and turned to look at him.

"It's like you don't know me at all." He said. Sherlock started to comeback with a smart reply but suddenly the world went dark, somebody had wrapped a cloth around his eyes, Sherlock struggled to pull the cloth from his eyes and throw off whoever had attacked him from behind, but he couldn't get ahold of them, he couldn't see well enough to make a plan of attack.

"But I know you, Sherlock, and I know how your mind works," He heard Moriarty say through the dark. Whoever was holding the clothe around his eyes was extremely strong and pulled Sherlock down hard onto the concrete of the ally. He continued to struggle, kicking his legs out , pulling at the fabric, but to no avail. But as the man let go of the fabric to hold his arms down, Sherlock managed to slip his eyes free and watched as Moriarty pulled a syringe from his pocket and uncapped it, kneeling down beside his upper half.

"Now I need you to stay still and this won't hurt a bit."

Sherlock leaned his head away from him, pulling hard to free his arms, but Moriarty quickly and carefully stuck the needle into Sherlock's neck and pushed its contents into him.

"I know I could probably have stuck it in your arm or leg, but this will work much quicker." He drew the needle from his skin and threw it aside, standing up.

"You can let him go…he won't make it far if he runs," He said and Sherlock felt himself released. He sat up but his head began swimming, his eyes growing extremely heavy. He blinked furiously.

"You really think I would lead you directly to my house so you can make some great escape and lead the police to my front door? No I'm afraid it won't be that simple."

Sherlock tried to stand but fell back down, so he attempted to crawl back towards the road, but made it hardly a foot before his body gave out on him. He lay on the concrete, fighting to stay awake, his vision growing blurry, nothing making sense anymore. He blinked once, forcing his eyelids back open, but they closed and his body betrayed him, falling unconscious.

Irene sat in the kitchen sipping hot tea. She was beginning to grow worried. The letter wasn't a normal 'I'm going out for milk' letter. Didn't it say he wanted them to be in touch? But how could they if they didn't know where he was? A thought suddenly crossed her mind and she ran in the bedroom to grab her phone. She immediately dialed his number and called. It rang once, but when it rang again, she could hear it ringing in the living room. She hung up. How curious? Why wouldn't he take his phone?

She picked the note back up.

'Irene, your safe now.'

He never called her by her first name, why would he start now?

"John?" Irene called out to John who was in his room with the door open.

"Hmm?"

"Something's not right about this letter," She said, walking back towards his room holding it in her hand.

"Why do you say that?" John said not taking his eyes away from the screen of his computer.

"This isn't how he speaks. When has he called me by my first name? And since when does he call us 'friends'?"

"What are you getting at?" John said typing.

"I think Something's happened to Sherlock," She said seriously. John looked at her.

"Are you serious?"

She rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a pen.

"I think there's a secret message in this letter somewhere. Something we've missed that he wants us to find."

John got up and followed her into the kitchen, leaning over her as she began writing.

"First of all 'My dearest Irene and John' is not something he would say.

She wrote the sentence on a paper.

"'Once I arrive, I will not be able to make contact', he left his phone here, maybe he didn't have time to grab it…maybe somebody quickly got him out of the house before he could?" She said then wrote that sentence under the first.

"'Rightfully so, you should be worried as I have no idea where I'm going.' That alone should tell us he didn't leave the house on his own accord," She glanced at John who nodded, staring at the paper.

"'I assume it's someplace nice,' maybe a hint of sarcasm."

"Your beginning to sound like him when you talk," John said. She grinned up at him. She wrote the remaining sentences one under the next and then sighed and put the pencil down.

"So what do we make of this? It sounds to me like he's been taken by someone…but who?" She said.

"You've solved it already," John said looking at the paper incredulously. He glanced at her but when he saw the confused look on her face, he pointed his finger at the paper. "Look what you've wrote."

'My dearest Irene and John, I regret to inform you I must take an absence for a while.

Once I arrive I will not be able to make contact.

Rightfully so, you should be worried as I have no idea where I'm going.

I assume it's some place nice.

Although I may be gone awhile, I expect you to be in touch.

Remember to lock the door at night, John.

Thank you for being such good friends.

Your safe now, Irene.

"Read the first letter of each sentence only," He said.

"Oh my God." She said picking the paper up.

"Moriarty. He's been taken by Moriarty!" She said worriedly and looked up at John.

"Come on, we have to find him, that man won't be happy until Sherlock is dead. He's smart enough to keep himself alive for a while, but Moriarty is very tricky. Where should we begin to look?"

A ring on John's laptop told him he had someone wanting to talk to him on Skype.

"Oh God if that's Wendy again…" He said stomping off to his room. Irene put her coat and shoes on, ready to go when John came back.

"You'd better come look at this…" John said quietly. Irene walked quickly into his room and sat on the bed beside him. There on the screen, plain as day, was Sherlock tied in a chair, apparently unconscious as his head was lolled to one side, his breathing deep. That's all that appeared to be in the white, well lit room.

"Hello!" They both jumped when Moriarty's face suddenly popped up on the screen.

"As you can see, your friend is well, John! But he won't be for long…unless you can find us."

"Where do you have him!?" John said loudly into the screen, gripping the computer tightly.

"Well now that's part of the game! It would be cheating if I told you!" His eyes were dark and crazy. His lips curved into a grin.

"But I will tell you this…every hour you do not find him…I will harm your dear Sherlock until he is nothing more then a bloody pulp!" He laughed.

"This is funny, is it? Just some sort of sick game to you?!" John yelled.

"Well yes…let's see how well you can play detective without him. No police, no weapons, just a simple game of hide and seek."

"With human lives involved!" John retorted.

"It's more my style," Moriarty replied, "Oh and Irene…"

She moved her head so that she was in the screen where he could see her.

"I just want you to know that he did this all for you," Moriarty grabbed his heart as though he was touched by something emotionally.

"And don't worry…I'm going to leave this web cam on the whole time so you can keep a close eye on your boyfriend."

"You're sick," Irene said with tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she stubbornly held them back. Moriarty simply laughed.

"I'd get started if I were you. When he wakes up, the first hour begins…" and with that, he walked off screen and it went silent.


	14. Chapter 13

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes. He was in a very bright room, so much so that he had to let his eyes adjust. His vision was a bit blurred and his body felt heavy. He blinked looking around. All he saw was a stool with a laptop on it in the corner of the room.

"My, my...you slept like a baby," He heard Moriarty's voice somewhere behind him. He turned his head and watched as the man walk around to stand in front of him.

"Where...am I?" Sherlock strangled out through his dry throat.

"Well I can't tell you that now can I? That would take all the fun away from my game. See that computer over there is recording everything we do in here, and I'll explain to you what I told your friends; this is nothing more then hide and seek. If they can find you, you can walk off, I wont stop you. But..." Moriarty gave a disapproving face.

"But?" Sherlock said raising his eyebrows.

"Well you see, there's just one small catch. For every hour they are not here, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life."

Sherlock blinked, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"That's not exactly fair play..." He said trying to reach up, his arms were aching terribly. When he realized they were bent behind him around the chair tied together, he seemed to wake up a bit more quickly realized how dangerous this situation was getting. He tried to move his legs but his ankles were tied tightly to the legs of the chair as well.

"Oh I think it's plenty fair! You came with me willingly, knowing it could cost you your life...and here you have a way out!" He said excitedly. Then looked back at the laptop.

"The first hour starts now. Time is 11:04am. Game on." Then he walked off out of a door somewhere behind Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at the laptop. He saw Irene's face looking back at him on the screen. He looked away. He hoped they would at least stop watching while Moriarty beat him. For once in his life...he didn't know what to do. He would have to completley trust John, literally with his life.

He kept glancing at the screen to see who was watching him throughout the first hour. John's and Irene's faces would alternate, sometimes they would both dissappear, sometimes they woud both be looking. He liked it best when neither of them looked. Frankly he was embarressed to be shown like this. He was completley awake now, his mind back in working order, but his mouth uncomfortably dry. He could tell by the changing position of the laptop that they were actively searching for him. But it did little to settle his mind when he heard the door open behind him.

"Well Mr. Sherlock, no sign of them yet." Moriarty said. Sherlock swallowed hard as Moriarty walk in front of him with his hands behind his back. His heart was racing but he kept a straight face. He musn't worry his friends.

Moriarty laughed.

"What?" Sherlock said.

"These things are always kind of akward to start aren't they?" He said smiling almost a boyish smile.

"I wouldnt know," He said flatley. Thank God Moriarty was blocking his view of the screen.

The sadistic man brought his hands out from behind his back and held a thick piece of metal in them, twisting it about.

"Well...shall we begin?" He raised his eyebrows and brought the metal way up in the air.

Sherlocked closed his eyes, but it did nothing to slow the impact of the blow to the head that left him dazed. He let his head hang, finding it hard to find any reason to move it. He watched through blurred vision as blood dripped down from his hair, leaving little streams down his cheek. But he didnt have time to think to much about it as Moriarty swung the metal into Sherlocks gut, making him lean as far over as his bonds would allow him, not able to breath for a few full seconds. When he finally did gasp for air, leaning slightly back up, Moriarty swung once more at his side. Sherlock knew as soon as the metal struck a few ribs had fractured and perhaps punctured a lung.

"There now...that wasn't bad was it? A good start one may say."

And with that, he simply left the room. Sherlock glanced up at the screen and saw Irene with tears falling down her cheeks. He felt something well up inside him that he could only describe as sadness. He found he couldn't look at her for fear of the sadness spilling out of his eyes. He watched the gentle drip of blood come from his face and land on his black pants. It kept him occupied for awhile, but he found his head and side were absolutley throbbing in pain. He needed serious medical attention and soon.

John couldn't bare to watch while his friend was beaten, Irene had been stronger then him and elected to keep an eye on him while Moriarty did what he wanted to him. Just to make sure he didn't kill him.

"How are we supposed to know where to begin looking!?" John said pacing angrily.

Irene wiped her face.

"We have to think like Sherlock. That's the whole point, he wants us to hunt him down like Sherlock would. He thinks it's hilarious watching us struggle. Trust me. I know what he likes."

John gave her an odd look.

"You've been with that maniac?"

"Well I didn't know he was criminally insane when I was with him, obviously. But he was definitely the biggest freak I've ever met..." She turned back to look at the screen and watched her beloved Sherlock bleed quite badly from his head. He seemed to still be conscious but very dazed from the blow. That was a very rough start for something he's going to be doing every hour...

"Come on," she said to John.

"Where are we going?"

"We are going to think like Sherlock," she said and they put their coats on and walked back out into the cold air, toting the laptop in in a messenger bag.

They flagged a cab to take them to the actual cab station itself, and once they walked inside, Irene immediately walked up to the front desk.

"Can I help you miss?"

"I certainly hope so," she said and leaned onto the desk to be close to the man. He was short with a balding head and glasses and seemed to be quite keen on her. John simply stood back by the door and watched.

"You see, my friend is missing and I'm trying to figure out where he's run off to. Can you look up in your records if anyone was picked up from Baker Street yesterday morning and tell me where they have been dropped off at?" She gave him a seductive grin.

"Well ma'am...we aren't really allowed to give that information out..."

"Oh I understand trust me it's just...my friend over there," she pointed to John standing awkwardly looking around, "see it's his boyfriend and he's too embarrassed to admit it but we think he may be running around on him. Poor thing is heart broken..." She said sadly looking at him.

"Oh my...that is sad..." The short man said shaking his head.

"I don't normally do this...but since it's his boyfriend and all let me check."

He began typing on the computer.

"Oh thank you so much sir...he will be forever grateful..."

He typed another minuet then hit the print button and ran to the printer.

"Here you go miss...don't let anyone else see that, just help that poor man find his mate..."

"I will sir, your a good man," she smiled at him and quickly made her way to John where they both walked back outside.

"Ok it says here he was picked up at 221b Baker Street at 5:50am and that same taxi dropped him off at 6:23am at an intersection near second street and James avenue. So I say we head there next," she looked up at him grinning.

"You are quite brilliant you know," John smiled back.

"I know," she said jokingly and they flagged down another cab.


	15. Chapter 14

When John and Irene arrived at the intersection, they hopped out of the cab and began looking around for clues immediately.

"Wait. I have an idea," John said and quickly grabbed the laptop from his bag, opening it up to reveal the chair with Sherlock. It was somehow stuck on his screen and he couldn't so much as minimize it to use other things on his computer.

He waved at the screen.

"Hello? Sherlock, can you hear me?" He said loudly into the computer. Irene watched him with a curious look on her face.

John watched for movement from his friend, but obviously he couldn't hear a word he was saying. He continued to move and wave and call his name, anything to get his friends attention.

Sherlock sat staring at the floor, the hope of him escaping fading rather quickly in his mind. He focused hard on willing the pain in his body away. It was not an easy task and he flinched as he stretched his neck out. Movement from the laptop screen caught his eye and he saw John waving like a mad man at him. He gave him a questioning look. John seemed to sigh with relief when he was noticed. He picked the laptop up and showed him the sign for the intersection they were at. Second and James.

Oh this was a way to find out where he had been taken! He understood immediately.

When John appeared back on screen, Sherlock nodded his head. John then faced the laptop in one direction, the complete opposite of the alley Sherlock last remembered being in. He shook his head at his friend. He turned it another direction and he shook his head again, finally when he pointed down the alley, Sherlock nodded furiously. He didn't want to make any noise in case Moriarty was listening. John smiled, gave him a thumbs up and walked down the alley. The door opening behind Sherlock made him lean up and try to look as innocent as possible.

"Did you think you would just have a friendly chat with your friends and think I wouldn't notice?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," He stared Moriarty in the eyes.

"You can't cheat!" He yelled. "I thought even you would respect that!"

"I have no respect for a man who places none on human life." Sherlock said coolly.

"Oh well look at that," Moriarty said looking at his watch, "Another hour has passed and still no one here to save you.

He immediately punched Sherlock directly in the jaw, a few more times in the face, a few times in the gut, again in the face…Sherlock was becoming dizzy and everything was starting to blur. All he knew was he was in pain. Such bad pain. His jaw ached, his head ached, and his side gave a nasty throb. But finally the man stopped beating on him. Sherlock leaned his head back against the cool of the chair, blood pouring freely down his face from multiple wounds. He closed his eyes and fought to calm his heart rate. He heard the door slam behind him. Oh if he could hit him back one good time he would never feel such pleasure. But he couldn't…he had to sit here and take this man's fury so he could buy John time to find him.

Speaking of John, Sherlock glanced down at the laptop. The angle of the screen told him it was on the ground and John was looking at something carefully that he had found nearby. He watched Irene bend down to examine it as well and she nodded at John. Whatever she had nodded at wasn't good because John dropped his head and shook it. He then looked back at the laptop and seemed to just notice that Sherlock had had the tar beat out of him. He got close to the laptop screen and seemed to be trying to examine him from the other side.

Irene picked up the thing that they had been examining and quickly made her way back to the screen. She held up the syringe for him to see and pointed to him.

Sherlock was about to nod his head when the voice right outside of the door said, "I wouldn't if I were you…"

He looked at his friends, looked down, then leaned his head back against the chair closing his eyes.

"That's what I thought." He heard Moriarty say.


	16. Chapter 15

There is only so much to do while tied to a chair in an empty room. Sherlock tried to keep an eye on his friends that seemed to be stuck as to where they should go next. He could only hope they knew more about what they were doing then what it looked like. He racked his brains through and through searching for a way to help them or himself, but not a single good idea could be formed. Moriarty had thought this plan through very thoroughly. And all for a 'fun' game to entertain his sick mind. Sherlock's side gave a nasty throb and he wriggled uncomfortably, grinding his teeth in pain.

"Hurts doesn't it?" He heard behind him. He exhaled and leaned his head back against the chair, dreading that voice. Had it been another hour already?

"I do wish they would hurry...this is making for a boring game. They haven't even discovered what city you're in! And I thought you only hung out with smart people..."

"Either of them is ten times the person you will ever be," Sherlock said quietly, not bothering to lift his head.

"You know I do believe you're right," Moriarty said laughing, "Especially that Irene eh?" He nudged Sherlock as though suggesting something.

"What are you saying?" Sherlock said eyeing him as he walked to stand in front of him.

Moriarty leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Man to man...wouldn't you say she is absolutely fabulous in bed?" he raised his eyebrows at Sherlock with that annoying grin on his face.

Sherlock felt himself growing angry. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything.

"Oh come on...I know you've had her. Half of England has!"

"Shut up!" Sherlock blurted out, "This is about me not her...what she has done in the past has nothing to do with right now."

"Are you sure about that? Because she's done me in the past. Now what do you say about her...she doesn't exactly have high standards huh?"

Sherlock struggled at his bonds, wanting nothing more than to punch this man straight in the face.

"Oh if looks could kill," Moriarty laughed and looked at his watch.

"Oh my, you've made me a few minutes late! We had better get this over with so you can sit here dying a little more each hour while your clueless friends get more and more lost."

"This time I've got something a bit more fun," Moriarty said. Sherlock watched him pull a switch blade from his pocket and open it. Sherlock's heart beat rapidly, his breathing quickening.

"Now now...I haven't even done anything yet and you're sweating bullets!" Moriarty took a step so he was directly in front of Sherlock with an inch between them. He ran the blade softly down Sherlock's cheek. His whole body tensed up and he waited for him to do something.

Moriarty dragged the blade down Sherlock's neck, down his chest, and to his upper leg where he paused. Sherlock twisted his head the other way, knowing full well what was coming just as Moriarty lifted the blade and thrusted it down hard into Sherlock's leg. Sherlock could not contain the loud painful yell that escaped him. His closed his eyes, clenched his teeth together, dug his nails into his hands, but nothing dulled the pain he was in. He felt as though he may actually pass out, the pain made him feel so sick and weak. He heard himself making groans and moans of pain but didn't know how to stop them. Surely he would die soon. He almost wished he would at this point.

Moriarty pulled the blade out of his skin very slowly, and blood began to sickly ooze out of the open wound in such a fast manner, Sherlock knew he would not stay conscious for long from blood loss.

"That all for now. Bye bye!" he heard Moriarty say through his fuzzy feeling brain.

Focus Sherlock. Breathe in and out. Assess the situation. First of all calm down, a high heart rate will only make you bleed out faster. Now then...you know he didn't hit any main arteries or anything important so if you stay calm you could live through this. The bleeding WILL stop.

But there is sooo much blood and sooo much pain! How can any normal human stay conscious through this!? It would be better to pass out, then at least I couldn't feel the pain for a while!

While Sherlock sat there arguing with himself, John watched through the screen. He dropped the laptop in a rage and paced back and forth, running his hands though his hair.

"I don't know what to do...I just...we have to find him! What do we do next? That's an easy answer, I don't know because I'm NOT SHERLOCK!" He yelled at the computer.

"John!" Irene said firmly. She walked over to the computer that was on the pavement. She checked to make sure it was still working. Thankfully it was.

"If you break this computer then we have no way to check up on him! Be careful!" She said picking it up and putting it in the messenger bag.

"I know you're scared. I am too. But freaking out is not going to solve anything," She said to him. He continued to pace worriedly.

"My best friend is going to die...he's going to die because I'm not smart enough."

"Can you please hold it together for him, John? Please?" She sighed.

She pulled out the syringe from the bag and looked it over. Maybe this could help them. maybe this was a clue he purposely left at the scene. Suddenly she had an idea.

"John! This Molly Hooper, she works with Sherlock right?"

He nodded not paying her much attention.

"Take me to the lab, I need to talk to her."

He finally stopped pacing and looked at her.

"Why?" He said suspiciously.

"I think she can help. I think Moriarty purposely wanted me to go there. He knows Molly likes him and he wants us both in the same room as some kind of joke to Sherlock."

"Whatever, if you think it will help then let's go," he said running out into the street to call another cab.


	17. Chapter 16

John and Irene showed up to the lab about twenty minutes later and literally ran into the lab Molly works in. She jumped nearly a foot in the air when they came bolting in through the door.

"Oh God, you scared me!" She gave a nervous laugh, holding her chest. "Is everything okay?" She saw the worried looks on their faces.

"Um...yes...this is a friend of Sherlock's and we just...um..."

"We need you to look at this," Irene finished the sentence for him, John was obviously flustered. She pulled the syringe from her bag. Molly put a pair of gloves on and took it from her looking it over.

"Quickly if you can...It's kind of an emergency," Irene added.

"What do you need to know about it?" Molly asked, obviously a bit confused.

"I'm not sure exactly...just if there is anything strange about it I guess..." Irene said not sure if this was such a great idea after all.

"Well...I'll take a look at a few things and see if I can help...can you please wait outside the door? I'm not supposed to allow people back here," She gave them a sorry smile.

"Yes that's fine just please, please hurry." Irene said, and with that, her and John went out and took their seats in the lobby.

John sat bouncing his leg impatiently and Irene opened the laptop to check on Sherlock. He sat there grimacing in pain, wriggling in discomfort. Her heart ached but she knew emotion would only slow her down now and she really needed to focus on getting Sherlock out of that man's clutches. Then she could be an emotional train wreck.

They sat there another painful half an hour, knowing that there was no way they would be able to reach him yet again. Finally Molly came out into the lobby. Irene rushed the laptop back into the messenger bag and they both jumped up.

"Well...there wasn't much to say about it...it had traces of a drug similar to a strong version of rohypnol, if I had more time I could tell you more about it but I just hurried through. There are traces of human DNA on the needle but it would take a while to get results back to see who it belongs to. Other than that there's not much to say about it..." She looked a bit unsure of herself. Irene looked to John and he looked down, obviously distraught. They were at another dead end.

"I'm sorry...I'm not sure what i was looking for..." Molly said apologetically.

"I guess we didn't either...thanks anyway" Irene said and they turned to leave.

"There was one thing slightly out of the ordinary...but I don't know if it would benefit you to know it," Molly called after them. They quickly turned back around, faces eager.

"That brand of syringe hasn't been used for a few years. The factory that made them shut down...I only know that because I had a friend that worked there..."

"What's it called?!" Irene asked excitedly.

"Med-tech. The factory is in the bad part of downtown London...it won't be hard to find, it's the biggest brick factory out there...was that the information you needed?" She asked curiously.

"I believe it was...thanks so much Molly!" Irene said and she and John sprinted out into the cold air.

Molly watched after them, thinking in the back of her mind she had seen this woman somewhere before. She shook her head and walked back into the lab to finish what she had been working on before they barged in.

Sherlock laid his head back against the chair trying to think of something...ANYthing to take his mind out of this room. He listed the periodic table, went through the stages of osmosis, did some basic algebra...but he couldn't stay focused on one thing for too long. Every time his leg or side gave a nasty throb he would be yanked back into the reality of what was happening.

He listened as the door opened behind him again.

"My God will you please just kill me and get this over with!" he said angrily to Moriarty. But the man paid him no attention and instead dragged two large fans into the room and set them on either side of Sherlock.

"Oh bloody hell what are you doing now?" Sherlock asked thoroughly confused at what his plan was. Moriarty walked out of the room then back in. Sherlock ignored him and laid his head back once again. All at once, he felt intensely cold water being poured over him. His body naturally reacted by tensing up every muscle, making an intense wave of pain rush through his body as he was doused.

"W-what the...h-hell..." he stammered out, coughing out the bit of water he had breathed in.

"I'm stepping up our little game Sherlock. Your friends have actually discovered where you are and I want to make it much more fun for them. So this may be my final hour of fun," Moriarty stepped into Sherlock's view.

"I do hope your friends find you before the hypothermia kills you..." Moriarty made a mock sad face then flipped on both of the fans and gave Sherlock a quick grin and walked from the room.

Sherlock was used to the freezing cold English winters, but being drenched in cold water then having fans blowing on you in an already cold room was a bit much. He quickly felt his body temperature lowering and began shivering violently. He had never wished to see John so badly in his life as he did right now. The laptop screen had been black for quite a while now so he could only hope they were on their way. He moved his good leg up and down quickly and flexed his arm muscles in an attempt to create body heat. It did little to stop his teeth clattering. Where were those two!?

"There! Right there!" John said loudly and excitedly and they paid the cab and leaped out excitedly. They looked up at the huge building. A few homeless people were huddled against the building trying to escape the cruel winter wind.

"Ready to save your friend?" Irene said and they both grinned at each other, both equally nervous and a bit scared at what they would walk into.


	18. Chapter 17

John tried to open the front door but it was, not to his surprise, locked. He walked around hurriedly, looking for a way in. He saw his opportunity through a cracked window. Irene helped him pull some empty crates under it and as he lifted himself up, ready to get inside, Irene had a bad feeling that John should stay outside and not be in there with them.

"John…" Irene said.

"I think you should let me go in…by myself."

John looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

"Are you insane?"

"I know how to work Moriarty. I know what to say to get him to listen and he respects me to some extent. He won't care if you get hurt or killed but he may care somewhat if I do. Please just…let me try."

"You are talking about you and Sherlock's lives…I can't send you in there not knowing what will happen…" he said obviously growing frustrated.

"Here," Irene handed him the messenger bag and he knew immediately what she was asking of him.

"Watching you three on a screen and being there to protect you are two entirely different things!" He said raising his eyebrows.

"John please. You have to trust me. You know I can be quite persuasive. I'll get Sherlock out of there." She stared him dead in the eyes. He stared back for a long moment but finally sighed and hung his head.

"Thank you," She smiled and John stepped off the crate so she could climb up.

"I'll be watching you and any sign of trouble happens I'm coming in there!" He shook his finger at her.

"Have an ambulance here in about ten minutes. No police. I think he may kill him on the spot if police get involved."

He nodded and she climbed carefully through the open window, landing almost cat like on her feet on the inside of the building. She stood and paused a moment to look around. It was cold, she could still see her breath in here and there was some snow on the floor from some missing windows on the higher floors. There were tables a various medical supplies scattered about carelessly. She carefully made her way to a set of stairs and as she went up them, she could see a room down a hallway with a light coming from the cracks of the doorway. She quickly began walking towards it and when she reached the door she paused a second with her hand on the door knob. She drew a deep breath in and shut off her emotions, this was about getting Sherlock out and she can't let anything get in the way. This was now a battle of the wits. And those she had plenty of.

John went around to the back of the building where there were no people and sat in between some empty boxes in an attempt to keep some wind from hitting him. He opened the laptop and put it in his lap. There was Sherlock where he had been since the beginning of this whole thing. But he furrowed his brow when he saw the fans blowing on his friend. He then saw that Sherlock's hair and clothes were wet. Sherlock himself was shivering so violently, he could not hold his head still. His lips were taking on a blue tinge and his skin that wasn't covered in blood was almost as white as the snow gently falling around the laptop.

"Come on…hurry…" John said wishing Irene could hear him. He could only pray Sherlock would keep shivering because the minuet he stopped, it could be fatal…

Irene walked into the room and immediately saw Moriarty standing with his back to her. He was watching a monitor that was obviously coming from a security camera pointed at Sherlock. It was a fair bit warmer in this room, she noticed the small space heater plugged in near by.

"Cozy, are we?" She said, breaking his attention to the monitor. He turned and smiled at her.

"Miss. Adler. I knew you were close but that was quick. Where's John?" He asked politely as if asking about the weather.

"He's waiting outside to call an ambulance."

Moriarty nodded smiling.

"So you volunteered to come in here and save Sherlock yourself then?"

"I would think there doesn't need to be much saving done. You made the rules simple, we find Sherlock and we take him." She said, keeping her voice even and confident.

"Did I make those rules?" Moriarty said teasingly, "That doesn't sound like my style at all!"

"It doesn't matter, those were your rules, we followed them, and now you keep your end of the deal." She said keeping a very stern face.

"That is just so boring though isn't it?" He smiled at her.

"I'm done playing, where is he?" She said growing angry and impatient knowing that every minuet wasted was more time Sherlock was getting closer to death.

Moriarty stared at her a moment then sighed.

"Why couldn't you have come in holding a gun to my head or have a swat team surround the building?! That would have been so much more fun!" He said with a straight face then walked past her out the door. She followed him out into the cold hallway where they walked down a few rooms and he stopped in front of a door.

"There. I suppose you've won the game…I'll let you take him." He stepped in front of her and came very close, leaning down until they were eye level. She stood her ground. "But I want you to know that I will never leave him alone…not as long as you're around."

"May I ask why?" She said angrily.

"Because you give him an obvious weakness!" he said loudly, "You are distracting him from bigger more important things! He doesn't need you…" He dragged the last sentence out slowly.

"He made that choice," She said quietly.

"No, you made it for him when you showed up! Why couldn't you have stayed away? Do you really think you can have a normal relationship with him and live happily ever after? Maybe get married and have kids? Oh wouldn't that be something…little baby Sherlock's running around solving the mysteries of who stole their bottle or where the missing pacifier ran off to!" He mocked her. She felt a lump rising in her throat. She had known they couldn't stay together for a long time but hearing the actual words out loud made her heart ache.

Moriarty stood back up and straightened his tie.

"You can't stay here. I want you gone in a month or next time something more serious may happen to your boyfriend. Something he can't recover from as easily as a broken heart." He said without looking at her.

And with that, he walked away leaving her alone where she wiped a single tear off her cheek. She opened the door and quickly went in, immediately going up to Sherlock and dropping down to her knees behind him to undo the ropes holding his arms behind his back.

"You…you…m-made i-it," He said through clattering teeth.

"Yes now stay still and let me untie you properly," She said with a flat voice.

He did as she asked and sat quiet and still, but he was shaking so badly it made it hard to untie his hands. She walked around to the front of him and swallowed back her emotions again when she saw the state of him. And yet here he was smiling at her.

"I knew…y-you would m-make…it…" He said to her. As she looked as into his green eyes, something tore at her heart and she found herself unable to speak, instead leaning down to untie his legs and trying to secretly wipe tears away as she did so.

Sherlock nearly fell face first out of the chair but Irene managed to catch him and sit him back up. His hands and feet were numb from cold and being in one place for so long. He found he couldn't quite control them.

"Sit a moment and try to get your bearings. It's no hurry, your safe now." Irene said gently to him. She made sure he was secure before turning to turn the two fans off.

"Oh thank God…that's m-much…better…" He said breathlessly. He sat there a few moments longer trying to get blood flowing back into his limbs.

Where's John?" He asked looking around.

"Calling an ambulance for you. I told him to let me talk to Moriarty alone. He's watching still, see?" She pointed to the laptop where John was talking on his cell phone watching the monitor closely. Sherlock grinned.

"I'm afraid I've l-lost quite…quite a bit of b-blood," He said, "I don't think…I can m-make it outside…"

"Can you try please?" She said quietly grabbing his ice cold hand, "For me?"

He looked at her a moment.

"Why were you…c-crying?" He said questioningly. She looked down and gave a small laugh.

"Nothing to concern yourself with detective. Now come on try to stand."

He leaned on her for support but as soon as he stood, pain shot up his leg to his stab wound and it was so unbearable and nearly dropped to the ground. Somehow he managed to stay standing and with support from Irene, he limped his way out of the room, occasionally letting out little gasps of pain.

After a very long, excruciatingly painful walk, they finally made it downstairs where sirens could be heard telling them the ambulance was waiting for them. Irene unlocked the door from the inside and Sherlock was suddenly being helped onto a gurney and rushed into the ambulance. Once inside the vehicle and out of the cold, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes, putting his life into the hands of the E. .


	19. Chapter 18

The next time Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes he was in a hospital bed with an I.V. and a wrap around his leg and far too many wires on him for his liking. He was feeling far better than when he had closed his eyes, although still extremely sore. He sat up slowly and groaned out of discomfort. He blinked a few times trying to bring the room into view and noticed a card on his bedside table. He picked it up and opened it.

'Sorry we couldn't spend more time together! Until next time…

~Jim'

Sherlock sighed and threw the card on the floor. He could have already guessed it was from Moriarty. He hardly cared. John came through his doorway carrying a large cup of coffee.

"Ah, your awake, good," John said and walked over to sit in the chair beside the bed.

"How long was I out?" Sherlock asked straightening himself out in the bed and cringing at the pain in his leg.

"I'd say a good three hours," John answered taking a sip of his drink.

"Where is Irene?"

"She's at the flat."

"Doing what?"

"How am I supposed to know, Sherlock? She was very stressed and worried about you, she probably needed some time to get her head back on straight."

Sherlock rubbed his head which he now felt had a rather large bandage by his eye.

"Give it to me straight, John. How do I look?" He said. John looked him over, raised his eyebrows, and took a sip of coffee looking away.

"That bad?" Sherlock asked throwing the covers off his legs.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"I'm all better now so I'm going home," Sherlock said swinging his legs out of the bed. But when he did, he immediately regretted that decision and laid back down.

"On second thought, maybe I should wait until I get a pain pill."

"Yeah good idea," John said.

The three days Sherlock was at the hospital, Irene stayed away, which he was fine with; he didn't want her out in the public eye anyway. But he was beginning to miss her presence…

John kept him updated on her though, although he said she mostly stayed in Sherlock's room moping about. The time came when he could finally leave and as soon as he arrived home, he limped through the door and found Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Irene waiting for him. Mrs. Hudson immediately ran to him and gave him a gentle hug. Molly awkwardly gave him some flowers and a 'get well' card that Sherlock could tell she put far too much time and effort into, and Irene smiled sadly up at him but didn't leave her seat. He knew immediately something was wrong, but he would have to wait until they were alone to find out.

After some tea and biscuits and an hour of visiting, Molly finally hesitantly left and Mrs. Hudson went downstairs. Sherlock, John, and Irene all sat around the table in an awkward silence. John could apparently tell something wasn't right so he cleared his throat, excused himself, and went into his room closing the door.

"Molly really is a nice girl," Irene said, "She's the kind of woman any normal man would dream of having. Very sweet, loyal, smart…"

"What are you getting at?" Sherlock said not wanting to talk about Molly.

"She adores you, Sherlock…she would give up anything for you…and she's not wanted by nearly every government in Europe…"

Sherlock suddenly understood why she was talking about her like that.

"Are you leaving?" He asked, not showing an ounce of emotion but he felt something inside that wasn't quite right.

"I have to Sherlock…we both know I have to. I can't stay here and hide in your flat the rest of my life…" She felt those damn tears welling at the brim of her eyes again. "You deserve a girl who can give you a normal, stable relationship-"

"I don't want a normal relationship."

"Maybe even give you children one day-"

"I don't want children."

"Sherlock…" She closed her eyes, letting a few tears spill over her eye lashes, "Just stop. We can't argue about this. I have to go. I only waited for you to get out of the hospital so we could have a proper goodbye this time."

She stood up and turned to walk towards his room to get her bag, she got nearly there when his quiet voice broke the silence.

"Was it something I did?" She turned and looked at him.

"Or didn't do rather?" He added, "Because I could change…"

"Sherlock Holmes you never change for anybody, do you understand?" She said firmly through her tears.

"Was it Moriarty?"

She closed her eyes a moment. "He's not the reason I have to go…"

"But he's the reason your leaving now," Sherlock said standing. She walked into his room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it, tears now freely falling, and her unable to do anything to stop them.

She gathered herself and began throwing things halfheartedly into her suitcase. She dropped to her knees and sat there in the quiet a moment. She looked at the bed and thought back to all the fun times they had had and how she had discovered a side of Sherlock nobody else in the world may ever know. A very loving, compassionate Sherlock who actually cared about someone other than himself.

She heard him knock lightly on the door and she stood but did not open it.

"Let me in…" He said quietly, "Please…you have no idea how painful it was to get over here so quickly."

She smiled in spite of herself and hesitantly opened the door.

"Thank you," He said and limped in to sit on the bed. She closed the door behind them.

"I know how the world works…I know you can't stay here forever…but do you have to leave today? I mean…I just took a knife in the leg for you after all…" He said.

"I can't stay long Sherlock…I've arranged a plane to America by tonight. I can't get you hurt while I'm there." She said sadly.

"So it is Moriarty making you leave then…" Sherlock said more to himself then her.

"He's right though…I give you a weakness and distract you from your work. You were almost killed for me and I can't sit around here all day wondering If one day I'll wake up to find you missing again or even dead."

Sherlock nodded his head slowly.

"Well…I'm glad we got to say a proper goodbye this time. If you're ever in town…you know…drop by and say hi to an old friend…" He said staring at the floor.

Irene was unsure of what to say. She knew he was trying to be nice and that's about as sentimental as he gets. She stood in front of him and leaned down, catching him off guard in a very slow passionate kiss. He brought his hand up and rested it on her face while they kissed, he couldn't help but want to feel her soft skin one last time. He left his hand there after she pulled back, but she kept their faces close together.

"Until next time Mr. Holmes…" She said quietly. He rubbed circles on her skin with his thumb.

"Goodbye, Miss. Adler."

They broke apart and she scooped up her suitcase and grabbed her jacket. She gave him one last glance and he gave her a small grin that she returned. Nobody may ever know what they had except them, John, and Mrs. Hudson, but it was better that way. And as she walked out into the brisk cold to catch a cab, she couldn't help but give one last glance to 221b Baker street and grin.

"The woman." Sherlock said to himself looking out the window at the snow falling.

"The only woman…"


End file.
